


Storm Front

by mcgarrygirl78



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Angst, Drama, F/M, Romance, post-episode
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-09
Updated: 2014-10-09
Packaged: 2018-02-20 11:26:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2426984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mcgarrygirl78/pseuds/mcgarrygirl78
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I tried not to worry…I failed.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Storm Front

**Author's Note:**

> I wasnt 100% on board with the plot of Demonology, especially when I had written something similar about Emily spending time in Italy with her mom as a teen and some things happened nearly a year before this episode aired. So when it did, this gave me a change to revisit that place and revisit that Emily.

She had to get out of the cold so she slipped the photo back into her pocket and walked up the steps. The large, heavy door opened easily, granting her entry. Emily felt a rush of warmth but still shivered. She walked past the candles in the large, empty vestibule, taking a moment to stare at the holy water. Even after all she had seen tonight, the first thought in her mind was _The Lost Boys_. One of her favorite scenes was when Edgar and Allen Frog burst into the church during the christening to steal holy water to fight the undead. The laugh in her throat never came to the surface as Emily walked deeper into the large, open room.

 

It was quiet and beautiful, empty as well. Emily went straight to the altar, kneeled and did the sign of the cross. Father Silvano asked her if she prayed. The answer was yes. As she got older she took a more Protestant approach, attempting to have a personal relationship with God. As with every relationship Emily Prentiss attempted, it had seen its share of ups and downs. So often she wished it could be right…that she could just believe.

 

Nothing was that easy. There were always more questions than answers. With her job, seeing the evil side of humans and the amount of pain they could inflict on each other without provocation, how could Emily believe in anything good? She closed her eyes at the altar, remembering her dreams as a little girl where George Burns would show up as God. He gave answers to her most complex questions, which surely were not all that complex at the time. Damn feel good American cinema.

 

She walked away, sliding into a pew. She didn’t know what to do so she sat there. Her nose was still bleeding; she wiped away the blood with her hand. Emily stared at the Blessed Virgin until her eyes burned. So many prayers went unanswered; so much pain heaped upon her. What could she do?

 

“Hail Mary, full of Grace, the Lord is with thee. Blessed art thou amongst women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus. Holy Mary, mother of God, pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death. Amen.”

 

“Amen.”

 

“Jesus.” Emily nearly jumped out of her skin when she realized she was not alone. She turned to look at the little priest, who sat down in the pew in front of her. He had a round, happy face, a Buddha smile instead of the glare she was used to from his brethren. “I'm sorry Father.”

 

“For what, praying? Never apologize for that, child.” He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket. “Are you alright?”

 

“Yes,” she nodded, wiping her nose. It was useless to give the handkerchief back so Emily held onto it. “It’s just been a long time.”

 

“Since you’ve been in church?” he asked. “Sometimes I think there are more lapsed Catholics in the world than Catholics in the pews. What brought you here tonight of all nights?”

 

“I just started walking. A friend offered a ride but I needed to breathe. Someone I used to love passed away.”

 

“I'm sorry to hear that.”

 

“Time passes and it’s almost as if the things that happened to you never happened. Sometimes you can convince yourself that they didn’t, like you read them in a book. Then one event shatters the myth and takes you back to that awful place in time.”

 

“It’s not a myth.” The priest replied. “Life is a series of events, many good and many bad. Anything can bring up a memory. Even something good happening can make you relive bad moments. Was this person no longer a friend?”

 

“I hadn’t seen him in close to 20 years. That actually makes it hurt more,” Emily paused, gathered herself. “At one time he was integral to my existence yet quickly became a faded memory; a tattered photograph.”

 

“Twenty years is not a short amount of time.”

 

Emily nodded, though she did not speak. She needed to go home and crawl under the covers. There was nothing left for her to do. Italy would have to deal with Silvano and John Cooley would have to live with the ramifications of what happened in Spain. Unfortunately, Matthew didn’t have that option. She could not change the events of her past or of theirs. Matthew could not be saved from himself or Father Silvano’s retribution. Emily only needed to look in the mirror to remember the person he once was. Saying she owed him her life hardly covered it.

 

“I need to go, Father.” She stood from the pew.

 

He stood as well, barely reaching her shoulder in height, sliding his hands into the pockets of his black slacks.

 

“Please tell me you're not walking in this storm. The snow is falling hard; I worry for your safety. Do you need cab fare?”

 

“No,” Emily shook her head, a real smile quickly moving over her solemn features. “I have cab fare and I will be careful. Thank you.”

 

“You came here for a reason tonight; know that. The door is always open when you want to talk, confess, cry; I've seen it all. I'm Father Gabriel, by the way.”

 

“Emily Prentiss.” She shook his extended hand. “Maybe I could use a man of God on my side.”

 

“Well I am here,” he took a card from his pocket. “Anytime.”

 

“Priests have cards now?” she raised an eyebrow. “What a world.”

 

“I know how busy police officers can be; especially in this town. Please don’t be afraid to call if you need guidance but can't make it to the church. I would never discourage a return to the arms of the church though. No love is like God's love.”

 

“FBI,” Emily flashed her ID. “Bless you.” Her head bowed a bit.

 

“Bless you Emily Prentiss…in the name of The Father, The Son, and the Holy Spirit.”

 

“Amen. Goodnight Father Gabe.”

 

“Goodnight.”

 

Emily quickly walked out of the church. The temperature had dropped, the snow falling as hard as the rain just a few hours before. Emily pulled her coat tighter around her and tied it tight. At the corner she held out a hand to hail a cab. She prayed for one to stop; this was not a good night to call anyone. Two passed before one finally pulled over. Climbing inside, Emily gave an Adams-Morgan address and told him to take his time. Traffic in the nation’s capital was heavy as always and running at a virtual standstill. Leaning back in the seat, she took the cell phone from her hip and pressed 2.

 

“Hello.”

 

“You must be quite tired of these phone calls.” Emily said.

 

“That’s probably the silliest thing I have ever heard. Anyway, I'm in California so it’s a little after eight o’clock here.”

 

“I didn’t call for any real reason. I just…”

 

“Julia told me about Matthew Benton.” Her stepmother said. “And what makes you think you ever need a reason?”

 

“You didn’t know him.” Emily replied.

 

“No, but I know what that time in Italy was like for you. He must have been someone quite special.”

 

“He was,” she bit her lip to keep from crying. Her stepmother knew about the sexual abuse at the hands of Lawrence Clayton. The abortion was probably the only thing Emily never told a soul. “He was in such pain Nat, had been for so long. Why couldn’t I save him like he saved me?”

 

“You’ve saved so many others. That was his gift to you.”

 

“But I didn’t love them.” Emily reasoned.

 

“You were able to find out what happened to him. Matthew never blamed you for the path he chose, Emily. I don’t need to know him to know that.”

 

“It’s more complicated than that.” She could hardly whisper into the phone.

 

“Do you need to talk to someone about it?” Nat asked. “Maybe one of your parents.”

 

“You are one of my parents.”

 

“I know sweetheart. What I meant was…”

 

“No. Mother would…dear God, I don’t want to relive this with her. I can never shake the feeling that she somehow blames me for what happened. Lawrence Clayton was her ally and quite possibly her lover. And daddy mustn’t ever see me this way…it would be too much for him to bear.”

 

“What, your imperfections?”

 

“Yes,” Emily’s laugh was mirthless. “That’s it exactly. Surely he knows I am imperfect but he never heard it from me. Is he with you in California?”

 

“No, he’s home in Chevy Chase. You can call him, drop in and check on him. Nothing would make him happier.”

 

“I love you, Nat.”

 

“I love you too. You are not alone right now, are you?”

 

“No ma'am. I'm going to go now; I just need to crawl into bed.”

 

“Call me if you need me; dad too.”

 

“I will. Goodnight.”

 

“Goodnight, love.”

 

Emily hung up and pressed another number. It rang too many times; she knew it would go to voicemail. Since she had no idea what to say to her mother or why she even decided to call, Emily just pressed END. Elizabeth would see the missed call and return it. That would begin the usual dance of Prentiss family phone tag; it was nothing new. Emily would turn her phone off tonight so not to feel guilty when it rang and rang. There was enough guilt in her soul right now.

 

It was late when she got to the house. The cab ride had been slow and expensive but Emily didn’t care. She used her key to get in, immediately shedding her pumps and wet coat. Her feet were freezing as she walked into the kitchen to put the tea kettle on. Changing her mind, Emily turned off the fire and walked down the hall to the master bedroom. He was in the shower, probably wanting the day to be over as much as she did.

 

Sighing, she stripped bare, leaving her clothes in a pile on the floor. For a while Emily just stood in front of the dresser. That was how Hotch found her. He wrapped his arms around her; felt her body tense and then relax against him. The kiss he placed behind her ear was tender.

 

“I tried not to worry…I failed.”

 

“I knew Dave would call you as soon as I declined his offer of a ride.”

 

“He was worried as well.” Hotch felt her shiver when his hand caressed her stomach.

 

“I'm alright. No,” she shook her head. “That’s really not true.”

 

Hotch already knew that. He was serious when said he did not want to see her in the bullpen for the next few days. The case was over. She disobeyed his order for the right reasons; he would get over it. Still, he would not budge on the time off. Clearly Emily was in deeper than she was ready to discuss. 

 

She revealed moments of her past so often recently…she need not do it again tonight. Hotch wasn’t going to let her. Revelations could come some other day, only if Emily wanted. Did it hurt him that Rossi probably knew? Yes. Did it upset him that another man was there as the steady hand and shoulder; that he was enough of a safety net to unburden her deep secrets? Hell yes. Hotch would get over that as well.

 

“My mother called me yesterday.” He said.  Changing the subject was a good idea.

 

“Is she alright?” the concern in Emily’s voice was real. She hated to move away from him but she did, going into the top drawer. A pair of boxers, a tee shirt, and his thick socks in hand, Emily moved over to the bed.

 

“Tug is ill. Mama took him to the ER, slightly dehydrated. He has flu-like symptoms but the doctors say he is going to be fine. Three days of rest they said…mama is chomping at the bit. She loves him dearly, almost more than anyone, but has never been the nurturing type. I don’t remember him having so much as a cough since they’ve been married. I promised to drive down this weekend to look in on them. That pacified her. She asked about you.”

 

“What did you tell her?” dressed for bed, Emily slipped under the blanket and comforter.

 

“That you lost a friend and took some time off. She wanted to make sure that you were alright.”

 

“I will call her tomorrow.”

 

“You don’t have to do that,” Hotch dropped his towel and put on pajama pants. “She is just being mama. You know how she is.”

 

“I adore your mother Hotch; it’s not just something I say. She is already worried about Tug…I will not add to her stress.”

 

“Did you speak to your mother?” Hotch asked.

 

“I don’t want to talk about my mother.”

 

“Fair enough.”

 

Hotch grabbed everything off the floor and dropped it in the hamper. He turned off the lamp before joining Emily in bed. It felt so good to hold her, the distance between them for the past few days seemed vast. Hotch tried not to make too much of it or take it personal, no matter how difficult that was. He just did the one thing he could control; put 150% into his job. Sometimes, even when they needed to cling to each other the most, Aaron and Emily retreated to the safety of Agents Hotch and Prentiss.

 

There were times when the balance felt perfect, other times nowhere close. It surely never would be. They loved each other, respected each other, and were a perfect team in the field. Still, he would always be a BAU Unit Chief, the boss. When personal collided with professional, which was rare, all feelings had to go on the backburner. The pain of not being able to hold her, protect her, was palpable. The idea that someone else was strong for her and with her broke Hotch’s heart. He asked Dave to look after her, be there, it was as close as he could get without crossing a line both promised they would never cross. If Hotch could keep the promise in this scenario, he knew they were doing something right.

 

“You're tense.” Emily whispered.

 

“You don’t need to worry about me.” He replied.

 

“That’s the silliest thing I have ever heard.” Emily channeled her stepmother. She pulled Hotch closer to her, her legs tangling with his. “We are in this relationship together. You must be worried about Tug.”

 

“I'm more concerned about mama’s overreaction. She might smother the poor man. I don’t like the idea of leaving you though.”

 

“If you drive down Saturday morning you have two days here with me, Hotch.”

 

“I meant what I said about not wanting to see you in the bullpen.”

 

“I know,” Emily nodded. “I have no idea what I am going to do with time off. I refuse to sit around and think about the past and loss. I just can't; it’s not healthy.”

 

“I know.” Hotch kissed her forehead. “I still don’t want…”

 

“I know, Aaron.” She said it through clenched teeth but there was no anger behind it.

 

Hotch kissed her, softly at first and then more passionately. Emily held him tighter, moaning against him.

 

“Don’t let me go,” She murmured when they took a moment to breathe.

 

“Never. It’s going to take a hell of a lot to get rid of me.”

 

She didn’t know why but his words stirred something inside of her. Maybe because Matthew said something similar while holding her so many years ago. Emily tried to stop the tidal wave; none of her usual tactics worked. Hotch held her as she cried, stroking her hair and her back. He wanted to tell her that it would be alright but didn’t know if it would be. Yes, it would be…as long as they held onto each other.

 

“I love you; I'm here baby, its going to be alright.”

 

“I love you too. Don’t let go.” Emily gripped his back.

 

“I promise.”

 

It took some time but Emily finally quieted in his arms. She snuggled closer, Hotch brushing kisses across her forehead.

 

“He was a friend to me during a time in my life when I felt I had no one.”

 

Hotch knew some of the details of Emily’s time in Italy. He doubted he knew them all but silently thanked Matthew for being there at her darkest hour.

 

“I love you so much. I wish there was something else to say Emily; some way to assure you that I'm never going to abandon you.”

 

“When,” Emily looked in his eyes. “Just say when.”

 

“You're supposed to say when.” Hotch replied, smiling and cupping her face.

 

“I already have.”

 

“Then its settled.” He kissed her. “Sleep, Emily Prentiss.”

 

She turned in his arms and they spooned. Emily felt warm and loved. The thump of his strong heartbeat on her shoulder blade, the feel of his arms around her, his breath on the nape of her neck…there was no other comfort. The storm would pass and they would rebuild stronger than before.

 

***

                                                                                                                                     

 


End file.
